The Power He Knows Not
by Surfer Tsunamiya
Summary: What could possibly be a power Voldemort doesn't know about? Love? Peh. How about an Exaltation? Series of one-shots, depending on responses gotten for individual chapters/storylines. No pairings as yet. Not likely to happen. To be frank: I own nothing. Standard disclaimers apply.
1. Option 1: First Year Solar

This is just something that came up in my head, please don't hurt me. I get random ideas and the best thing I can do with write them out. I'm willing to continue the different chapters into full-length stories, but I'd need to know which ones would actually work for people.

Please note: This is unbeta'd

Harry Potter Exaltation thoughts:

Option the 1st:

Scene: First year, Mirror Chamber during the fight with Quirrel.

"Give it up, Potter. There's no way you can win." Quirrel had a mad gleam in his eye. His Master had given him an order and he was loath to disobey. He looked at the young boy responsible for his Master's current state and reached forward to grab him.

Harry couldn't effectively struggle during this time, being only 11 years old and being unable to effectively reach his wand to cast any spells. The second Quirrel's skin touched Harry's own, however, sent pain lancing through his world like none he'd ever felt before. His eyes blurred with the pain and his flesh felt like it was being seared off, but with a crack in his eyes as the pain receded almost instantly, he saw that Quirrel's flesh was actually turning to stone.

Not stopping to ask questions like "why" or "How" considering he'd spent the better part of the last year learning about honest-to-goodness MAGIC, Harry pressed his advantage and placed his own hands on QUirrel's face, heedless of the man's screams and the screams of the _thing_ that identified itself as Lord Voldemort.

In that moment, Harry felt almost like everything that could be right in the world was, like every bit of warmth he had in him spread out and in doing so burned the foul creature of darkness that stood before him. Something in haryr's mind snapped into place. No longer was Harry holding onto a man's face, he was peering into the eyes of a being made of concepts and functions. He was looking into the Abyss and while it stared back at him, he was punching it in its conceptual throat, hurling it down towards the earth below screaming it's death throws as it fell.

When Harry's mind returned to the present, not a moment had passed, as he was still holding firm onto his former professor's face, watching it burn with a childlike glee.

In another world, harry would be horrified by what was happening, but not let go for fear of what Quirrel might do should he get another chance, even as the arms clawing at Harry's hands turned slowly into stone, breaking away into dust. But that is not this Harry. This Harry smiled and released the older man from what was to be his death only to spin around, extending his arm while placing one hand in his other to add structure to the next blow.

Harry landed his elbow in the reeling man's ribcage, hearing a satisfying crack as bone shattered and wisps of darkness escaped from the flesh of his opponent. The light of the room, formerly only candles was replaced by light comparable to the sun as Harry continued attacking, letting his blows stay long enough to burn flesh, but not long enough to truly kill his target.

It was only after Quirrel was dead and the adrenaline faded from Harry's mind that he realized something was wrong. Looking back to the Mirror of Erised, SOmethignwas off about the reflection.

Instead of just his family, for they were there still, surrounding him and lauding him with love in their eyes, Harry could see more of the world behind his family. A vast landscape of green pastures splayed out before a golden city with spires reaching the sky, gleaming in the sunlight as a sense of peace and tranquility took a hold of his mind, reflecting the ambient emotion of _his kingdom._

Harry himself looked different. Instead of the slightly malnourished boy he had seen not a few moments ago in the mirror which supposedly reflected his deepest desires, he saw a boy in robes of purer-than-pure gold, on his brow sat a sunburst patter, which even in the dark of the room Harry could see easily splayed on the walls when he turned his head away from the mirror. The golden light coming from Harry's forehead filled him with a sense of righteous purpose and satisfaction at achieving victory, even over such a pitiful opponent as Quirrel.

When Headmaster Dumbledore arrived, it was not to a chours of screams, nor was it to the sight of Harry defeating his instructor and it was most disturbingly not to the sight of Voldemort's spectral form racing away from the school to find refuge elsewhere. It was to seeing Harry Potter Radiating a light like unto that of a new dawn, soft whites and golds flowed aorund his form and small flares of solar fire burst from places where the young boy's flesh almost came into contact with itself.

And then the light faded and so did Harry's consciousness. He would not wake up for several days, afterwhich many things would be different…

Now if only Dumbledore could figure out what was going on…

AN: Short, I know, but these aren't really supposed to be long, jsut little things tog et my mind away form school for a short while


	2. Option 2: Second Year Lunar

This was brought up in my head because I'm crazy like this and 99 brain cells outvoted the one poor "Reason" cell to make me actually think how this might turn out.

Yes I know that at 11 Year old Exalting is weird. Weirder things have happened in Exalted, especially considering that Harry effectively had Destiny 5.

Option the second: Lunar?

Scene: Second year, in the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry's eyes were darkening around the edges, he could feel the fang of the gigantic serpent piercing his arm through-and-through. Riddle was going to win like this? Like some punk who happened to have control of a gigantic snake with killing eyes, recently scratched out by a Phoenix but still! How was this fair? Harry could practically see the life force flow form Ginny into Riddle, making him more and more "real."

Harry's main thought in that moment would have normally been about how he would survive this and barring that how he would take the snake with him, but not this time. This time Harry could almost see how the school would be shut down simply because he couldn't protect his friend from the shadow of the Dark Lord. Not even the Dark Lord himself whom he had defeated (questionably) the year before but a _shadow._

The moment Harry's mind turned from defeating the snake and killing the shade of Riddle, he found himself filled with a renewed energy, a sense of purpose which made the pain of the Basilisk's venom seem insignificant in comparison. Using what strength was left in his arms, Harry wrenched the fang, still stuck though his flesh and bone, free from the mouth of the basilisk, chopping at the gums with the sword of his house-founder. When it came free, harry could see the black venom pour mixed with serpentine trails of blood form the creatures mouth.

The next move baffled the shade of Riddle as Harry dove into the open and screaming mouth of the basilisk.

For the longest time, Tom could only stare at the Basilisk who looked just as curious as Riddle felt, even through its blind pain-filled haze. And then the snake let out an ear-piercing screech and fell dead on the gorund and Riddle could only watch, horrified, as another identical Basilisk, with it's eyes intact and both fangs, burst from within the snake. Everything he'd read about the snake before he'd made the diary never mentioned any kind of regenerative quality like this, but Riddl'es younger self was nothing if not delusionally self-aggrandizing.

_"Are you fine, Servant?"_ He hissed, not looking the creature in its killing eyes.

_"Yes, But you're not."_ Was the only response Riddle got before, looking back at the creature, It struck out at his diary, piercing it with one of his fangs.

As the ink ran as blood form the book and the stolen life flowed back into its original owner, the shade could only scream in pain, but deep down he was confused as to what had just happened…

Harry shrank down to his relatively short human form, a glowing sigil of a ring of silver on his brow, giving off brighter light than any distant torch and bathing the area in a soft silver glow. The silver flowed out of the ring on his forehead into flowing and intricate lines all along Harry's skin. Simplistic by some descriptions, they still flowed in a script long forgotten by normal mortals, declaring Harry's identity for those who knew enough to read it.

Wiping a bit of blood from his lips, Harry looked back at Ginny before diving back into the corpse of the Basilisk. At a point nearer the head than the tail, Harry pulled out the fang he had used to kill the monster, it's heart still attached with a bite missing form it's flesh. Harry continued to eat the flesh as he walked back over to Ginny's unconscious form.

Fawks sat on Ginny's body, crying into the girls small wounds, healing them instantly before flying over to Harry's shoulder, looking at his arm expectantly.

"I Don't think I'll be needing that sort of help, Fawks." Harry said, holding up his arm to show clean flesh without the blemish of a scar, only the glowing silver lines that traced his entire body like vines.

Back up in the castle proper, Tonks could only hold herself tightly as her tattoos showed and a vision of her Patron flitted across her mind showing only a crescent moon hanging in the air like the smile of a mad god.


	3. Option 3: Third Year Solar (Twilight)

Option 3rd, Year the 3rd, Prisoner of Azkaban. Scene: The final scene with the Dementors by the lake…

Harry could quite clearly see himself laying on the ground being surrounded by the creatures made wholly of fear-inducing mental trauma. They were likely going to suck out his soul if his father did not show up as he did last time, but then it struck him.

It was never his father whom had saved him. It was himself. The temporal physics of the situation made Harry's head spin trying to comprehend them before he discarded the thought of understanding them while whipping out his wand to cast the one spell he knew to drive Dementors away.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry's few happy memories flitted through his mind until he found one of suitable strength to power the spell as much as he knew was needed. It was the thought of when Sirius had offered him a home away from the Dursleys and their relatively silent contempt of him.

A white form flew from his wand in the form of a massive stag, glowing white with the strength of the memory powering it and the happiness it instilled in its creator, though dimmed by the immediately following let-down in which Pettigrew had escaped. The shadows crept into the form as it raced around Harrys past-self before, having driven away the Dementors, the shadows took on a softer feeling to them, almost welcoming and calm. Harry could easily hear the waves of the Great Lake lapping at its shores and it reminded him of vast oceans, even though he had never seen them. It was disconcerting in a distant fashion, for the glow had returned. Not white this time, but golden and bright, shining form Harry's forehead. Disappearing as he knew he needed to, Harry retreated into the woods, hoping that the trees would block out the golden light shining all around him.

Hermione was at a loss for words. She could not comprehend what was happening as the light shining from one of her best friends was so much stronger than a simple Lumos spell, and she didn't think people could actually add color to the light without adding…

Hermione's thoughts were somewhat predictable. Harry, on the other hand, was at war with himself at the moment. He could not quite get his head around the sights before him. He _saw_ the ebb and flow of the magic around him, lines of power that coiled around the landscape and interwove with themselves to form a loose mesh in the space around him. He could see his own magical power with ease, flowing off of him and into the world aorund him, making it more vibrant and more…

_Real._

There was no better word for it, really. The area around him seemed to be made more solid, as though something was trying to eat away at the very foundations of the universe, but something was stopping it in its tracks. Harry could easily see the spot of darkness that clung to him like a limpet before a small bit of his power wrapped itself around the shard of darkness and devoured it. A small bit of power filtered into Harry's body, he could easily feel himself get a little refreshed from it, but felt disgusted with himself for seemingly unknowingly taking that kind of darkness into himself.

Part of him, a part he'd never known he had until that moment, sopke to him in his mind, whispering secrets of the universe, his divine Mandate to rule Creation and of the sheer reality warping power of magic.

The weight of Harrys new power seemed to press down on all things around him before retreating back into the depths of his soul, sitting just beneath the surface. It felt good. Warm and comforting while still being boiling and ready to act…

_Just as the Evening Sun holds back the night, it is the task of the Twilight Caste to educate the ignorant in all forms of learning, scholarship and craft._

As Harry saw Sirius again, getting ready to ride Buckbeak off into the sunset, he couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen and if he'd ever get the chance to take up Sirius' offer of a place to live that wasn't with the Dursleys…

AN: This one was a bit strained. Had a bit of trouble thinking of what type of exaltation would actually come up in that moment, but Twilight won out, since magic-y magic is magical and all that.

As for Tonks in the last chapter, Who the hell else would be a Lunar If not a Metamorphmagus? I was operating under the assumption that Tonks was a little younger than is popularly accepted, so meh I guess.

Anyone got any ideas? Any thoughts you wanna see done? Bring them up! I'll write out a short little piece for any I can find a reason to do so for… Also, any other Exalted x-overs you want to see done, please let me know and I'll look into it.

Reviews are accepted, but please remember, none of this crap is Beta'd.


	4. Option 4 Third Year ?

Yet another idea: Option the 4th: Still in 3rd Year

Scene: The Hogwarts Express

"Why have we stopped?" Ron asked, confused as to the grinding stop the train had just undertaken.

"Do you think it's a problem with the train?" Neville Longbottom asked, beginning to look outside.

"SHH! There's something moving outside." Hermione, being seemingly the smartest of the group had the presence of mind to look out the window to see of anything had happened. She saw shadows flickering about outside, moving closer and closer to the train. Suddenly the window felt very cramped as everyone grouped together around the portal to the outside world.

They all watched as the window grew a fine layer of frost as the water in the air latched on to the glass before freezing. Were it not for the horrifyingly ominous aura that had descended upon the train the effect would have been very interesting and noticeably beautiful. Unfortunately for the crowd of children trying not to wake the sleeping vagra…. Professor in the cabin the palpable feeling if fear and terror descended upon their fragile psyches and began to work it's wondrous magic of making about eighty out of a hundred of them into nothing more than vegetables frozen in place by their own fear.

The children in the last cabin heard a rasping breath and saw the door open, revealing a clammy nigh-skeletal hand which held the doorframe.

Harry's eyes darkened around the edges as his mind began the rather reasonable operation of shutting down out of sheer terror and the inability to handle that much of a chemical imbalance at one time with very little buildup. He was hearing a woman's voice shouting, "Please, not Harry! Take me, anything but Harry!"

A responding voice which brought to Harry's mind images of a face in the back of Quirrel's head, "Stand aside, foolish girl!"

More pleading followed before a green flash of light blinded Harry.

The rest of the cabin watched as the creature swept into the room, waking the Professor, who was about to shout something along the lines of Sirius Black not being in there, obviously, when a white light washed out everything else in the room.

Harry stood, surrounded by a white light, reminiscent but not quite like a Patronus' light. He was surrounded by geometric shapes which resembled, form a certain view when the light hit them just right, a huge gemstone. Harry turned to the creature that until that moment had been inspiring such terror in him that his muscled had frozen. Shaking his head lightly to clear out the lingering mental influnce of the creature, he steadied himself before launching himself at the creature. His fists hit like stones striking the relatively weak flesh of the disgusting creature. The crack of bone breaking and the sickening squelch of muscles tearing as Harry screamed out his anger at the creature resounded throughout the train. The light grew in intensity and the ground began to shake around the train. Rocks began to float into the air as Harry continued to pummel the creature, long since having become a dark grey-ish pile of goo.

A simple stunner from Professor Lupin had Harry down for the count…

When he woke up again, harry was very curious as to why everyone thought he wasn't perfectly justified in doing exactly what he did. He could feel the very bones of the earth beneath him, the stone of the castle beneath him, the veins of ore beneath the foundations, even the Chamber of Secrets. He could see all of these things through the very stone. It was fascinating His eyes were no longer needed (though they did help quite a bit) just to know where things are.

Inside of himself he could feel the strength of those same stones, a reliable and steadfast strength that would not fail under any but the most dire of circumstances. He could feel it there, resting just beneath his flesh. While he would normally expect such things to be roiling and trying to break free, it felt more like the energy was simply sitting there. Slow to move but unstoppable in the end…

AN: So, who can guess this one, then? Gotta say, it's not that hard to figure out… this is kind of just to keep me writing so I don't just leave off and never do anythign more with it, so please feel free to say "He's drunk/high/out-of-his-mind/blitzed/what have you" as long as you also realize I currently have no beta, and thus no check on my insanity.


	5. Episode 5: NO YEAR!

Episode 5: No year whatsoever. Slightly different take on things.

Harry potter was a young boy with a burning desire to not be seen or noticed. He hated being in the spotlight and most of all he hated being known. This was a rather natural outcropping of his learning that being noticed tended to get you punished in some manner or another. Nothing violent, but when your relatives and "caretakers" made it perfectly obvious they would have been just as happy never knowing you and your teachers seemed to think you were a liar by dint of said relatives spreading horrible rumors about you before you were even old enough to understand them, the thought of being noticed tended to make one duck one's head.

How does the saying go, again? "The nail that sticks out gets hammered." That kind of thing, really.

So when a young woman showed up at the door of Number 4 Privet Drive and took Harry away with nary a wayward look form the Dusleys, Harry really only hoped that it would be someone who was there to take him someplace better, where he could have an actual family that liked having him around.

So it was really quite disconcerting when he was told that he was going to be brought to Heaven… If Harry were older than 7 at the time, he might have been able to joke about certain acts which shall remain nameless, but as it stands he could really only ask the woman if he was going to see his parents.

"Sadly child, no. you will not be seeing your Parents in Heaven. Heaven is reserved only for the Gods and those who serve the will of The Loom of Fate." The woman had a sad smile on her face the belied her years. In her bright green eyes, so similar to the ones he saw in a mirror every day, he could see flecks of white glittering like stars in the night sky, but beyond that harry could see the sadness she felt telling him that.

It had been a long time since the Daughter of Ice and Jade had been to Creation. It had changed so much with the many cataclysms that had followed one after another. To be honest, most thought there would never again be the need to do so. Prophesy was taken in by mortals and even then only those with enough connection to the Loom that they could glimpse pieces of it. Most of the world had ceased believing in the supernatural altogether. Many Gods had died because of the prayer shortage…

And now, here was one who was destined to finally take over the place of one of the surviving Sidereals…

Four years later…

Green eyes looked past the barrier at the train station of 9 and 3/4 with curiosity. Star-like flecks of white in his eyes glistened as he watched the other children saying goodbye to their parents. It had been quite a bit of work to get back down to the mortal world, but certainly it would be worth it if he could just convince people to begin praying again to the proper Gods… the amount of paperwork he had to look forwards to was mountainous.

"I wonder if I'll get in trouble for wearing green, rather than "I'm-Depressed" black… Ah well, I suppose I'll find out eventually."

(AN: Idea: Sidereals almost always know exactly who is going to exalt as one of them and when. What would happen if Harry was simply meant to exalt and Trelawny simply picked up on that in her prophecy? What group is he in? Why, the Bureau of Secrets out of the Forbidding Manse of Ivy, of course!

As for where the White wolf stuff is from, it's form Exalted, the single-most epic game made by White wolf since Scion.)


	6. Epi-option 6: Year 5

AN: So, I figured I'd skip through 4th year, since I've kind of broken my previous trend of going year-by year. I've gotten a request for an Infernal!Harry story-arch. I've had this planned since the beginning. Personally I love Infernals, but I've been tyring to figure out how to make it work in the long run because Harry is not a Villain. Without seriously rewriting his backstory or re-writing certain evens, but I found the PERFECT moment and method for an Exaltation that revolves aorund the recipient *failing* in a moment where they could be epic… Harry certainly does this a couple of times, but where would it be appropriate, where would he be weakest and most susceptible to Infernal influence? No one ever said that Infernals can't regret their decision, just that they can't really get away from it…

Scene: End of fifth year, Post Department of Mysteries battle, Recovering in the Hogwarts Hospital wing.

Seeing Sirius die right in front of him and then not being able to do anything about it had a much deeper affect on Harry than people gave it credit. Most people assumed that the lack of really knowing him meant that Harry would get over it sooner than rather than later, all he needed was some time along to think it over. Normal people would assume it was really the fact that Harry couldn't even make Bellatrix pay for what she did even as much as using her favorite curse on her because "he had the wrong emotion for it."

The words echoed in his head until the moment that Voldemort took a hold of his mind and sent him screaming into a corner of his own mind, unable to do anything but watch on as Voldemort used his own voice to dare Dumbledore to kill him. Not to mention that he was able to accomplish this while still being able to move around in his own body.

Harry was left alone by his friends, his teachers and laughed at by his enemies for being just above useless but not quite to "Viable threat." Even when using an Unforgivable Harry was unable to make it last for anything longer than a few seconds. Harry was awake and sitting in his customary bed. It seemed that Madame Pomfrey had set aside a bed just for him… it was almost disturbing. The only way to make it worse is if there were a plaque with his name on it signifying it as his. It was more than a little depressing to know that he was in the Hospital Wing often enough that he even had a "customary" bed.

Harrys brain finally caught up to his eyes when it recognized the presences of something that just seemed _wrong_ in all definitions. A beautiful woman wearing tight leather clothing might not be wrong by many people's definitions, but when one sees their hands constantly moving with too many fingers to count and seven knuckle joints, playing music on the very fabric of reality….

The music was haunting and disturbing. Harry could almost feel the tune work it's way into his mind, making him feel all of the moments of his life… And come up wanting. He could feel nothing but the depression at being constantly too weak to actually stop anyone aorund him from dying. First Cedric's face flashed behind his eyes, the image of his pale cooling corpse burned forever into his mind. The moment of Sirius being stunned and falling into the Veil, the look in his eyes as Harry watched on joining Cedric's face in his memory. The constant neglect and outright dislike form his relatives, his inability to shine out even at his best, all of it came crashing down on his mind as he listened to the music.

"I wish to give you an offer, Harry Potter. One that no mortal has yet refused." The woman spoke in a language that was at the same time foreign but still "English." The words were tinged with the same melancholy that the music inspired in Harrys mind. "I can give you the power that you should have… You know the prophesy, now, But shouldn't Dumbledore have told you years ago? To help you prepare for what you would inevitably face?"

This made some sense to Harry, but he still couldn't quite bring himself to get over how _wrong_ the woman seemed.

"It's not your fault you couldn't help your friends or the only person you saw as family. If your friends actually wanted to help you, they would be here for you now, they would have gotten you out of your relatives house when you first hinted at how bad it was. If you accept the power I'm offering, you'll never be alone. You'll always have a family willing to do _anything_ to help you." The woman looked at him, the usic took on a slightly lighter note, though the affect didn't change.

Harry couldn't help but wonder at the thought of having a family willing to do literally anything to help him if he asked. To have the power to do what he needed to do… The only thing that kept him from saying yes was his own fear of what acceptance might mean.

"If you take the offer you'll be given freedom to do as you will, within reason. You'll be free at last of the shadow of your Dark Lord, you'll be able to get rid of his influence in your life without any problem. You'll be free of the manipulative old man everyone seems to determined to follow into their graves. And most importantly, Harry, You'll never be _alone _ever again. You'll always have me with you. I'll guide you every step of the way, Harry."

Harry could tell that something was wrong, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. His mind was suddenly absolutely clear. Every word she spoke was followed by a flash of the person she was speaking about. Dumbledore plotting, Voldemort retuning to life in that abomination of a ritual and finally a slightly older version of himself with an almost palpable feeling of power surrounding him and only slightly behind him was the ghostly image of the woman currently standing at the foot of his bed.

With that last thought, any resistance to the thought of acceptance melted away. Harry could almost feel the affection the woman had for him, which seemed odd, but considering what she was offering, didn't he deserve a little bit of happiness in his life?

With that, the woman burst apart and the energy that made up her form surrounded Harry, sealing him inside a horrific cocoon of brazen mass…

Time Skip: 5 days.

When the Chrysalis shattered and Harry emerged, he saw the face of a statuesque man looking down at him. Not in a bad way, literally looking down at him. The man seemed to be upwards of 19 feet tall. Perhaps a Giant?

"Welcome to Malfeas, young Prince of the Green Sun."

This began Harry's training, and nothing would ever be the same for Creation and Hell alike.


	7. Cont Option 2 (Lunar,) Year 4

AN: Since I got a request for one of these, I figured I might as well go through it with. I do requests, I like reviews that are actually reviews. Please, if you have a request, PM me. Otherwise you're just buffing my review-numbers with requests. As a reminder, please don't get your hopes up for a full-length story out of a request. I do these little one-shots as introductions not necessarily as "Here's what I plan to write!" 'cause by now, that would be dumb to try and write all of these. Please review and let me know what you think, also which chapters you would actually like to see develop as a story. I've got timelines for just about all of them, they're also open for adoption, just give me a little heads up (and credit where credit is due) and any of these can be used.

Also, this is a continuation of Option 2, as per request. Don't get used to it, I don't like doing continuations of one-shots.

Ever growing Option # 7 Lunar in the Triwizard…

Scene: 3rd Task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry Potter had been trying to keep everything that had happened to him personally secret from anyone who didn't really need to know. He really had been trying. But god damn it, sometimes Harry thought someone was setting these tasks up for the sole purpose of getting him to out himself.

Last year had been amazing. He had met one of his newest friends, Tonks (She hated her first name and refused to tell him anything other than that,) a girl from hufflepuff in her seventh year at Hogwarts, who began to teach him about what he was and what had happened. He had bene doubtful at first, but seeing her change her form into several animals and then begin changing her human features around made Harry a believer.

Harry could still remem ber the night he'd first met Tonks, immediately following his release from the Hospital wing shortly before the end of the term.

Harry slithered; yes, slithered; through the Forbidden Forest. He was still very much getting used to the form he'd taken, whether he wanted it to or not, he still felt a need to explore his new form. The symbol on his forehead had changed over the time he'd been measuring it. It was now a crescent moon that glittered on his brow, rather than the ring of silver that used to reside there. It made no difference to Harry, in the end. None of ti made any sense. He just knew that he felt at home under the light of the moon.

"Wotcher, kid." A voice sounded from nearby, Harry could smell the newcomer, in a sense, but couldn't quite figure out what her scent was. It was mixed with so many conflicting scents it made Harry's head spin a bit.

"Still getting used to the senses? Don't worry. It'll come with time. Could you come back to your human form so we can talk face-to-face?" Harry could now see the girl. She was standing in front of him with her eyes covered by one hand. Her hair was bright pink? Even in the night with the eyes of a snake Harry could tell that the color was pink. It _tasted_ pink. That was a confusing bit of information for Harry's brain… But otherwise she just seemed normal. Obviously Hufflepuff colors form the badge and tie, but otherwise…

When Tonks sensed Harry's trepidation, she sighed and channeled a bit of power through her skin, showing her own mark and the tattoos that covered her body. Harry could make out her name, "Princess Quicksilver Forms of Intrigue" and several lines which seemed to be a story, but he couldn't quite read all of it.

"Name's Tonks, but if you want you can call me Princess. I like being able to say that." her mouth curled into a smile as she slowly lowered her hand. Harry took that as his queue to change back into his human form. In the night his tattoos glowed bright as his form shifted and shrank. Suddenly he was back on legs with hands and arms and such things, His eyes never left hers, though.

"Well, then. This should be fun, Eh Harry?"  
_

She'd given him his name amongst their group. Might of Purpose. She'd given him his permanent Tattoos; the ones he had were simply temporary, it seemed. Since then she'd been by as often as she could be, but the last thing he'd heard of her she was going into Auror basic training.

The next year, He'd met Remus Lupin, yet another person he could talk to! He'd smelled the wolf in Remus within minutes of meeting him. When confronted about it, along with the showing of his own Caste symbol (A glowing disk symbolizing the Full Moon) and Remus was more than willing to talk. He's the one who had helped Harry come to terms with his Spirit Form, citing that some things were a part of us, no matter how much we may wish they weren't…

Finding out about Sirius Black had bene a nice thing. He'd wanted to eat Peter Pettigrew since finding out about his betrayal, but he kept himself from doing so for the sake of the testimonial that could provide Sirius with a way of making good on his promise to let Harry live with him. It might let him have Tonks over and she could continue helping him with this whole "Lunar" thing…

Chosen of Luna? It still sounded a little weird to Harry, but every time he'd try to think about it, or ask about it, Tonks would get a look on her face that made Harry both scared and strangely attracted, or he would get a flash of a Crescent moon in his mind, hanging in the air in a way that is not natural for it to do so, reminding him of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland…

And then this bullshit happened. He'd been fine with the thought of sitting back, maybe doing some hunting in the Forest when nobody was looking, flying back to his dorm room (Being a bird was AWESOME!) and lettign the whole year pass him by without incident. But no. Some numbnuts had to put his name into the cup and the cup, being the "infallible and immaculate artifact" that it supposedly is, chose his name to come out. What kind of nonsense is that? Tri-wizard. Tri. Three. Not four. Quad-wizard tournament just didn't have the same ring to it…

It was times like that when Harry began to question his sanity… He usually went on to realize he was a 15 year old boy competing in a tournament practically tailor-designed to kill its participants in a world of wand-waving lunatics with self-inflating egos.

Suddenly being a shapechanging Chosen of the Moon made a lot more sense when that realization kicked in. Right now, however, as Harry wandered through the hedge-maze that constituted the Third task, he couldn't help but think "Somewhere along the way, I've gone mad."

Perhaps it happened when the Mer-folk began worshipping him as a God? Perhaps it was when Harry thought to himself that the Hungarian Horntail looked hot? Or perhaps it was when the centaurs had stopped trying to shoot him when he went into the forest and instead began leaivng him gifts and tied up animals…

And now, what does Harry see? But a Sphinx. Normally, a the Sphinx was supposed to ask a riddle of the contestant that found it. If they answered correctly, she would let them pass. If they answered incorrectly, however, she would attack them.

Did she do either of these things? No. Instead she began to rub up against the young Lunar.

"How _you_ doin'?" she asked in a completely uncharacteristic accent.

"Is that the Riddle?" Harry asked, half hopeful…

AN: The end. There. Third task. Leaving it there since I don't write lemons (often) and there's only a few ways that line of thought can go. Kind of crack-tastic, but really just my brain going "WTF!? SPHINX + LUNAR = CAPSLOCK FOR COOL!"

I've also decided to not give a crap about the mash-up of Exalted-style magic and Harry Potterverse-style magic. I know it doesn't mesh well, I don't care. It's Magic. What more do you want?


	8. Ending the Graveyard

AN: Because I'm CRAZY!

Episode 8: Year 4.

Scene: Graveyard when Voldemort gets resurrected.

Harry could hardly contain the white hot rage in his gut being smothered by the pants-crapping terror of seeing Voldemort crawling like a monster out of the deepest and darkest parts of his psyche to torment his waking hours.

The morbid irony of the situation crept up on him and practically bit him in the ass. The acceptance was new. Harry never thought he'd accept that most simple of truths that shit just happens form time to time. It doesn't float around in a metaphorical storm waiting to drop, it just happens. The urge to laugh was suppressed by the still raging fear of the situation. Not of death, harry had quickly come to accept that Voldemort planned to kill him the instant he didn't need him alive anymore.

No, It was simply the fear of Voldemort _coming back from the dead._ Harry personally would never feel the need to expound upon why this scared the crap out of him on so many levels. The very thought that there is magic out there that would allow the _dead_ to return to vex the living would make any sane individual want to grab his trousers and put them on his head, wear his shoes on his ears and get a couple of Prince Albert piercings sans-anesthetics. Perhaps the shock of doing so much stupid shit very rapidly would cause his brain to wake up from the unending nightmare his reality had become and he's find that there was still no way to return from the dead, up was still the opposite of down and 1+1 still equaled 2.

But Harry was not so lucky. Instead he got the mind-wrenching terror that comes with witnessing someone whom one knows for a fact is not godly in any way work magic that should only be possible for one with that kind of thing on their resume.

The application process for that kind of power really should come with a sign "Anyone without "Advanced God" qualifications or higher need not apply." Somehow Voldemort was doing it, though. Which meant only one thing for Harry. He would have to deal with this crap. He'd have to deal with the end of his nice, peaceful (HA!) life at Hogwarts and say hello to a state of paranoia reserved for those who _knew_ what was out to get them…

VOldemort made him bow before beginning the farce of a duel. Let's see here, a sixty-year-old newly reborn Dark Lord with all of his followers on standby (even if they had orders not to interfere) against a half-trained (at best) 15 year old who'd been through the wrigner already, lost a lot of blood (Wormtail is not a licensed professional in the Red Cross, damn it!) and been banged around on some gravestones….

Right. That's a fair and even fight. This'll show those idiots who thought even for a second their Lord was weak! He fought a schoolboy! He's got to be strong, right?

The humor was working it's way into Harry's mind even as he and the Dark Lord circled each other, Voldemort with a smugly superior look on his face and Harry was just waiting for his opponent to start with the Killing Curses.

Harry was trying to make sure his arm didn't bleed out, Trying to make sure his limp wasn't too pronounced and trying desperately to keep an eye on Voldemort to make some kind of guess as to his next move. All of which would have been much easier if some douche-bag hadn't decided to light his Lumos with violet light…

Voldemort was not one to give much credence to ideas like "honor" and "Morality." His only real goal in dueling the Potter boy was to kill him for the embarrassment of being defeated by a child not yet old enough to realize what was happening… And to get it through everyone's thick heads that he was the greatest Wizard of all time. After all, he had just returned form the dead, he had achieved Immortality!

So when Harry Potter began to glow like a torch in a violet color, he didn't really think much of it. He was the Greatest, after all. Whatever the boy was preparing, the only thing he could think of was a spell for making your laundry dry in 30 seconds with a bit of extra fluffing, Voldemort did not think it would be any match for his magical power.

And then the boy dropped his wand. His eyes no longer even resembled their former selves. They now shone with the same violet color that surrounded the boy. Definitely not the laundry spell.

When harry dropped his wand, it was only because his hand felt heavy with it. He dropped his legs a bit, bent his already protesting knees, and brought his arms up in a guard formation. He felt calm, like a cool breeze just blew through his mind, settling himself into a comfortable stance, ignoring the protest of his joints and those quickly faded. Scarlet light danced around Harry even as the violet light continued to cover the area in light bright enough o read by. When the scarlet light dissipated, Harry lunged forward, swiping his hand down towards Voldemort's arms.

The Dark Lord, thinking it nothing but a stupid muggle way of attacking, held up his wand to block it with a shield.

Only for the shield he raised to be destroyed by a flash of scarlet light and Harry's hand continued on unimpeded, cutting the wand that Voldemort had used for years prior to his defeat to splinters. The shock of loosing his wand was enough to give pause to everyone, the Dark Lord most of all, which is all the time Harry needed. He continued his assault, every punch leaving a sizable hole in Voldemort's flesh as though Harry were actually wielding bladed weapons and stabbing the almost skeletal creature rahter than simply punching the crap out of him…

And that's how Voldemort's return was stopped for a time.

AN: Ha. Two chapters, 1 Day. How do you like that crap, eh? Considering I don't normally write more than a couple of hundred words per chapter, I'm actually pretty amazed I managed this crap… No beta = no one to put a check on me. Few reviews means I just continue going on doing my own thing with no way to know what people want to see, what they think I should do better what they think sucked gigantic hairy donkey-dick. That kind of thing. Please. Review or something. I'm getting bored reading my own writing over and over again, and as you can see it doesn't really help me with not coming up with random and insane bullshit ideas to write little one-shots about.

If I don't know what people like to see, I'll never know what I'll actually end up writing out of these as an actual story.


	9. Option 9: Second Year (Terrestrial)

AN: So, here's the deal, ladies and gents. I need feedback from people. This is what reviews are. I need feedback and help. I know that my writing can improve greatly, but so far I've gotten two reviews that aren't from people I know in the world outside my computer. Please, for the love of writing, review and let me know what you like, don't like, think I suck at, want to see more of… This is partially an experiment to see what all people would like to see done in a full story and another part to see if I can't get off my ass this month and do NaNoWriMo.

I'm also doing requests. As seen, I've done an Infernal!Harry story (which has a lot of potential in it, if you ask me) and a continuation of the Lunar!Harry. Harry is not the only person I'm willing to write into an exaltation, but he was the main character in canon, thusly he's the one with the most obvious opportunities to Exalt. If you have an idea that you'd like to see written then give me the details you want. Pick a character (within reason,) Pick an Exaltation (Solar, Lunar, Sidereal, Infernal, etc.) and pick a year (as long as it makes sense, I guess?) and so long as you're not too specific about other details I'll do it. (I don't do Femme/slash. Either of them. Don't ask.)

Please, if all you have is a request, PM me. If you have something to say, feel free to include the request with a review, but otherwise, PLEASE REVIEW! :P

And now that I'm don ranting… Actual Word Count of the chapter (so as to not be a douche about it) : 904

Why was it spiders? Of all things, why spiders? Aragog, the Acromantula Hagrid had raised in his youth, had just told Harry and Ron that he would not deny his children fresh meat when it just waltzed into their home…

If there was one thing at that moment that drove Harry, it was the thought of not ending up as spider food. Following that was "survive to the end of puberty" and in any normal world, normal being a relative word, the flying Ford Anglia that he and Ron had crashed into the Whomping Willow at the beginning of term would have come to their rescue, helping them escape form the massive spiders and their hungry eyes and clicking mandibles.

But for one reason or another, the care was not there, leaving Harry and Ron to fend off the giant spiders on their own. Thank you Hagrid.

"Arania Exumai!" Harry cast the spell used to exterminate spiders he had learned from the journal of Tom Riddle earlier in the year, banishing several spiders, but hardly killing them or putting too much of a dent in their advance. The stress of the year was really beginning to catch up with Harry at this point, much the way one's life tends to flash before their eyes in moments where they think they're going to die.

Haryr was not pleased with his life, for the most part. He was so tired of it and normally he would be able to grin and bear it, but this year had been the worst. The whole school, save for a few people who were either loyal to him or thought so little of him that nothing could have made him be a threat in their eyes, thought that he was the one releasing the creature in the Chamber of Secrets and killing Muggleborn.

Two years and so far Harry had almost been killed at least four major times. Form older students who don't clue their younger compatriots as to which staircases like to move and when, which stair only exists every other Tuesday and Thursday between the hours of four in the afternoon and five in the morning which had lead to people tumbling down long flights of stairs, the amount of magic being flung about in hallways in "harmless jest," homicidal (or incompetent) Defense Against the Dark Arts instructors, a Potions Instructor who seems more interested in creating a hostile learning environment for three-quarters of the school than actually teaching them anything and now this crap. A giant spider deciding that even though he's trying to help the very person who gave it a home in the Forbidden Forest, took care of it when it was younger, and released it when the heat got turned up a bit on the situation rather than allowing it to be captured and probably killed was about to let him and his friend be eaten.

The anger was enough to break men of greater stature than Harry could, at the moment, dare hope to reach. When one really bad day stretched out into an entire bad month, let alone a bad year, one really has to have something to keep a hold of to keep them grounded. Harry had no anchor of sufficient strength.

And thens omething gave him that strength. He felt the woods around him The whole of the Forbidden Forest was an open book to him. The trees felt angry, but like all things with such long lifespans their anger was one that would seethe and simmer for ages befor eacting. Now they had Harry's anger to act with as well, granting them the impetus to act.

Harry continued fighting as hard as he could, notciing very little other than his own struggle to beat back the oncoming swarm of arachnids. His newfound awareness of the forest around him only provided him with a panoramic view of how many spiders really were in the trees. But then, with Harry's continued anger and his expenditure of his energy trying to stay alive and protect Ron form his angle, the forest itself joined the fight. Like the Whomping Willow they began to bash at anything and everything within reach. New trees grew at an unreal pace, wrapping around the limbs of the giant spiders and even growing through them.

Harry himself began to glow with a green light, which granted an eerie feel to the whole scene… well, more eerie than seeing a swarm of spiders descend upon a couple of children no older than 13.

In the end, one massive tree rose above the rest of the forest, casting a shadow on a larg portion of it with the length of the branches. Harry continued to glow in that same green light, Affecting Ron by making him alternatingly nauseous and healthier than he'd ever felt. Where harry walked the tree sprouted new branches, for the tree had grown underneath their feet before bursting out of the ground, taking them up above the forest canopy.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yes Ron?"

"Not that I don't appreciate the save form the marching spiders of death and all, but how are we going to get down from here?"  
Harry could only blink as he realized that even given this majestic new power he felt, connecting him to the forest and the cycle of life itself, he didn't know how to get down without injuring himself.

"Balls."


	10. Option 10: Abyssal (7th Year)

AN: While I can appreciate the thought of the Master of Death never Dying (for the irony) sometimes I just wanna say "Is it because he's already dead?

Harry decided to stick around, really. That's the best way he could put it. Rather than take the easy, and possibly best option for him he took the Right way and thus the hardest way. Returning form Death was never a menial affair. Something always had to be given up. Most often, as in the case of vampire, it was quite a bit just for the soul to animate the body with an unnatural need to feed on the essence of the living via their blood.

In other cases, much less was given up. Like with the Mummies, who went through cycles of death and rebirth for centuries at a time in either side of the scale, over their long lives eventually balancing out. Their only loss was their ability to simply let go of the world and die on a permanent basis.

In Harry's case, unfortunately, there was only one way to escape Death. He had three items, whether they were in his possession or not, they all recognized him as their owner in the end, intimately connected with Death, or at least a version of the anthropomorphized concept of Death. The Cloak, which allowed one to escape even the notice of Death itself, which explained in many ways how Harry had managed to survive for so long much better than some cockamamie prophesy, the Resurrection stone, which allowed one to summon the shades of the dead so that they can speak with the living, but only the holder of the stone.

And finally the Deathstick, Deaths own Wand. The only thing identifiable about it was that it was made of Elder wood. The core was assumed to be Thestral hair, for the nature of the creature is that it cannot be seen without first witnessing death, but in the end no one knew precisely what was in there, legends being what they are.

All of these Items had a bit of the power of Death itself in them, a decaying and almost virulent poison on life. All of them made life for their holders interesting to say the least, as though they tangled the strands of fate around their holders simply by their presence.

Now imagine what would happen if someone were to hold all three, use all three, and be considered, in the eyes of the world, as their "owner."

When harry was hit by the vitriolic green light of the Killing Curse from Voldemort's wand, he found himself in a train station.

In another world, it would be Dumbledore there to explain the facts of what was going on. What had happened to Harry in that moment wherein he had breached the shroud of life separating the lands of the Dead. Instead, there was a child there, standing in darkened armor with skeletal wings made of a black metal. Bits of white placed around the structure of the wings gave the impression of bones beneath the metal, but not enough to think that they made up the innards of the wings. The young boy looked no older than 14 with eyes that expressed one thing while his face expressed something almost entirely different. His face showed only sadness and pain while his eyes showed anger and an iron will to continue, despite any pain.

"You're not who I was expecting." Were the short first words spoken in the train station, eerily similar to the station which allowed students travel to and from Hogwarts.

"Am I dead, then?" Harry asked the young boy.

"My name is He Who Fell in Tears. You have one choice in front of you. Take the train into the "next great adventure" as you beloved Headmaster put it, or you can go back. Going back isn't free, though." The young boy didn't seem to care that Harry had said anything, simply talking as though rehearsed thoroughly beforehand.

"What do you mean that it isn't free?" Harry asked, reasonably curious as saying such things usually implies a cost, and Harry was leery of anything this particularly creepy child would demand.

"It's actually very simple. You'll just have to be an intermediary between the Underworld and the lands of the living… Well, that and rectify the issues with people trying to escape Death." The child seemed completely sure of this, and gave no indication of lying that Harry could perceive, but it still rang wrong to Harry's ears.

"What more? I Doubt that can be it, or that it's really that simple."

"Look," the child began, "You don't really have the time to complain, nor to ask that many questions. Just know that you've been touched by Death since you survived the Killing Curse. You've been marked as great since before you were born but ultimately that all means dick if you die here and now. Voldemort will continue his rampage, your friends will die and the world will suffer. None of this particularly bothers me, or those whose interests I represent, but I'm sure it would bother you. So you've got to make a choice. Be a Hero, albeit one with a night-job, or be a corpse." The childe finished his tirade with a shrug before pulling his hood down over his eyes and turning away.

"Fine!" Harry called out, looking at the Train and knowing where it inevitably would lead. "Fine. I'll do it."

The boy didn't turn around, he turned into a skull surrounded by a miasma of swirling necrotic energy and flew right into Harry's chest.

When Harry woke up, his breath came in short gasps, he reached for his wand and found all but one of the Hallows, the Elder Wand, but that was hardly important now. In his mind he could hear the whispers. The sounds of being far more ancient than even the oldest of man's histories. He could hear them, but couldn't make out precisely what they were saying. He felt them skittering along the very precipice of his perceptions, flitting through his mind with thoughts of annihilation, insights into the mechanics of interacting with the Lands of the Dead as one of its Masters. He could barely make out the voices of beings long dead-but-not infecting his thoughts in minor ways, very minor, but still there in a horrifying volume.

When Harry killed Voldemort, it was not with a spell cast form the Elder Wand, for now, with its power being used for its original purpose it was just a stick with a bit of Soulsteel in the core. It was with a spell cast by Harrys own hand, sans wand, which ripped the skeleton out of the supposed Dark Lord's body and made it dance before seemingly dissolving into dust.

There was a celebration that followed the demise of Voldemort, But Harry could not help but feel detached form it all. He even forgot to answer to his own name a couple of times…

Months later, when he had been fully introduced to his new…. "occupation" he realized why. He was no longer Harry Potter. That man had died. What returned was a new chance to be someone on his own merits. A new person without that bloody scar to make his life miserable.

Traveler who Walks through Death would now walk through the lands of the living… But that's a tale for another night.

AN: Because I could. That's way. I'll probably redux this a couple of times with different thoughts, but meh. It's kind of a preliminary format right now. Gotta work on it hardcore. Total word count: 1,221. Yay me.

So, I've gotten a couple of followers, yay me, and this story is in people's favorites list, yay for this story… but I have yet to receive much feedback. I need feedback. I need to know what I'm doing right/wrong, if you have ideas or thoughts, *please* tell me. Otherwise I'm kind of floundering in the dark here.

Ah well. Please leave a review on your way out and see you next chapter, whatever it is that my deranged mind can come up with…


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